homemade jar of mermaid extract
(Thursday, February 09, 2006)
supposedly if i were to mention that i updated my photoblog, i wonder if anyone would go and get an eyeful of my pathetic photograhpy indulgence?
would it help if i were to put a link
here?
holy fuck, go and have a look for fuck's sake.
***
'i am definately gonna get something, but i don't know what', i noted to the gay sales assistant that was kind enough to summon me with his unruptured attention. 'so if you could please help me here, i'll get my shit and fuck off in no time'.
shit, was i too straight with that muthafucker? he'll probably clutch his foremost concentration to whatever i touch. i'm the fucking Midas now. it's MY moment, everything i touch is potentially a fraction of his salary next month! he just looked at me quirkily and walked to the corny couple wearing mambo t-shirts.
Mahai!!! the lad had matching camouflage shoes and baggy jeans, the perfect reason for that son of a bitch sales dude to dump me for him. after all, i am only wearing my limited edition black Forest shorts (limited edition: it's something from stone-age, so it's obsolete), a discreet white tee with a dodgy dark brown monk's-bag lookalike which is also a prominent haute couture limited edition like my shorts which my dad kindly procured from China.
yes, indeed the sales attendant did fuck off for someone with razor sharp hairstyle and matching pants-footwear garments. the abstinence was brute act, i'd say. but i couldn't give a fuck all cause my sole intention was to secure a bag for gabrielle.
for the injustice i was done for, a slight (actually, it was a prime) thought occured in my dear head that it is only fair if i grab the bag then make run for it. without wasting time, i took the bag, sling it over my shoulder gracefully (the wind was blowing the hair all over my face) and aligned my feet, charging it with force for the survival sprint. it felt almost kinky.
no wonder winona ryder has this gruesome affection for larceny.as i was about to thunder away, a petite clutch held the fucking sling of the bag. the female counterpart of the sales assistant offered a hand to assist me on my 'sling-and-run-bag-promotion'. not only that, she has also yadda yadaa blah blah yadda bleep blah yadda.
to cut the long story short, she was being a helpful bitch and the former sales attendant's kawaii looking customers couldn't be fucked to get anything so he just rooted there like a helpless scarecrow, glazing at the cheeky little sparrows tearing into the grains under his santuary. in the end, without further doubt, she sealed the sale with a big smile on her face. disgraceful look publish on the faggot's expression made me feel victorious.pardon my extremity in naiveness, but the last time i went to apply for a sales assistance, here are a few requirements:
- Minimum SPM/SRP/PMR/
- Good spoken English/Bahasa Malaysia. Preferably mandarin/chinese dialects.
- Friendly personality (
if you have one)- Able to work long hours
- Dedicated
but hey, what a suprise, they've never mentioned fucking good judgement skills. or even bias personnels welcomed.
